


Eavesdroppers Rarely Hear...

by Jadzia7667



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10065266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzia7667/pseuds/Jadzia7667
Summary: Harry hears a conversation he never thought he would.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Title: Eavesdroppers Rarely Hear…  
Pairing: Snarry  
Rating: PG-13, perhaps  
Summary: anything good about themselves….but once in awhile, an eavesdropper hears something extraordinary.  
Disclaimer: Not mine. I’m just letting them out to play.  
A/N: Thanks to Laura for beta work and endless concept discussion, as always.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry stumbled out of his bedroom at Grimmauld Place and sleepily made his way downstairs. Morning came entirely too early, he decided fuzzily. He was just poking his head into the kitchen to locate the pot of coffee that Dobby always left for him when he heard voices from the library. He crept down the hallway to see who had the nerve to visit him at such an outrageous hour of the morning. It was barely half ten and it was summer, for Merlin’s sake!

Harry would be eighteen later in the month; Voldemort still wasn’t dead, the rat bastard. Therefore, Harry was stuck living in this mausoleum until he figured out how to exterminate the snake faced piece of filth once and for all. He swore to himself yet again that as soon as Voldemort was a pile of oily ash on the ground, he’d burn Grimmauld Place to its foundation and rebuild something warm and light and bright in its place. 

He crept closer to the library and tried very hard to focus his caffeine deprived brain on the voices within. A purr and a rumble was all that penetrated his sleep fogged ears. He blinked several times and attempted to translate the sounds into recognizable English.

“Severus, please. The boy needs training if he is to fulfill his destiny. Training that only you can provide him.” The voice of his former Headmaster, Harry realized. Damn. More training. 

A moment later it sunk in that the Headmaster had said ‘Severus’. That meant Severus Snape, his former Potions teacher and the bane of Harry’s existence since the end of sixth year. Longer than that, actually, but at the end of sixth year, Harry’s feelings for his teacher morphed into a whole new world of uncertainty and embarrassment. He’d thought Severus was a murderer and a coward. Nothing could have been further from the truth and he was profoundly relieved when the truth did come out, via Dumbledore’s reappearance and Pensieved memories, less than a week after the end of the term. 

Dumbledore had cemented Snape’s place as Voldemort’s number one man for a couple of weeks, but hadn’t succeeded in flushing the slimy git out for Harry to dispense with him. Now Snape’s cover was irrevocably blown, Voldemort was supremely pissed off and had been for over a year, and Harry had to worry about protecting Snape as well as trying to figure out how to off the irritating megalomaniac who was out for his blood. The blasted plan hadn’t worked, but it had been a right enthusiastic try, thought Harry with a snort. He supposed Dumbledore had been befuddled by the remnants of the curse magic that had seeped into his hand when he first went searching for the Horcruxes.

Harry would prefer training naked with a herd of centaurs to training, clothed or not, with Severus Snape, for a variety of reasons. The uncontrollable hard on he acquired when he was in the man’s presence for more than thirty seconds topped his list of reasons for being distinctly displeased with Dumbledore’s latest scheme to drive him mad. The attraction had crept up on him slowly, coalescing into a full blown infatuation by the middle of seventh year. Harry had thought at first that he was having panic attacks. Between the red faced panting and the odd fluttery feeling in his nether regions, it was a reasonable assumption. When he realized what he was feeling, he was heartily embarrassed. It was only an infatuation, he told himself sternly. Harry huffed at himself; that was then, and this is now.

He didn’t dare breathe; would Snape answer the Headmaster, or merely sneer at him? The last two months of seventh year had been unbearable for Harry. It seemed as though Snape was always looking over his shoulder in class, always commenting on the state of his potion, always correcting his stirring technique or his chopping technique. It drove Harry absolutely insane when that warm body loomed over him. It made him weak in the knees when the strong elegant fingers closed over his own to show him how to stir properly. The smoky silk of Snape’s voice as he explained what Harry was doing wrong made him desperately want to come in his pants. Or out of them, preferably.

At meals, when Harry flicked a nervous glance towards the teacher’s table, Snape was always looking back at him. It was most unsettling. Harry knew the man didn’t hate him anymore; they’d finally achieved a détente of sorts once all that business at the end of sixth year had been sorted out. Harry had no idea why on earth Snape had taken to staring at him as though he’d grown a second head, though. Perhaps he was still shocked to discover that Harry Potter, in fact, was not the reincarnation of James Potter.

It didn’t help matters that Harry was completely unable to form a coherent sentence when Snape deigned to address him in class. To top things off, he’d helped rescue Snape from a Death Eater party gone badly awry over the Easter holiday and managed to develop deeper feelings for the man while he was recovering in the hospital wing. He’d told himself it was merely an infatuation, but he knew it for the bald faced lie it was. Having feelings for Snape was more unsettling than wanting to snog the man senseless. Attraction, he was used to. Wanting to spend time with Severus, to know everything there was to know about him; that, he wasn’t used to.

It was embarrassing, really. His lack of control was quietly disturbing. Never mind the fact that once they’d put their animosity aside at the beginning of Harry’s seventh year, they’d actually discovered that they worked well together. Never mind the fact that they actually had interests and goals in common. Never mind the fact that Snape had taken him aside the day after he was released from the Infirmary to gravely thank him for saving his life. That prompted a heartfelt apology from Harry for his part in their acrimonious relationship and made him feel distinctly warm inside when he thought about the look in Snape’s eyes when he’d made his speech.

Harry didn’t know what to do with all these feelings. He supposed he wouldn’t do anything at all with them. It was inconceivable to him that his nebulous feelings would ever, could ever be returned. No, it was better that he not give a name to his feelings, better that he hide them until they disappeared. Severus Snape was certainly not going to fall in love with Harry Potter. He sighed inaudibly and wondered if anyone would ever love him. 

The purr was back, reverberating against Harry’s ears and making him shiver. “Albus, I beg you; don’t force me to tutor the boy. It will not end well, I promise you.”

Albus again. “What do you mean, Severus? How can it not end well? Harry will get the training he needs, and you will, perhaps, find what you need as well.” Harry would just bet the barmy old coot was twinkling at Severus. He wondered if that twinkle irritated Snape as much as it did Harry.

A huff of annoyance. “Of course, Albus. The boy will pick up on my entirely inappropriate feelings for him, and he will return them. We’ll ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.” The words dripped sarcasm. Harry could almost see the puddle it was making on the floor. He goggled. Inappropriate feelings? That sounded promising. Wait, no it didn’t. Snape probably wanted to kill him as creatively as possible.

Harry crept as close as he dared to the library door, and pricked his ears up, determined not to miss a word of this highly interesting conversation.

Albus chuckled. “Inappropriate feelings, Severus?”

Harry just knew Severus was glaring at Albus. He could hear that glare in every tight, frustrated word that came out of Severus’ mouth. “Yes, Albus. Inappropriate. I have come to respect him, to admire him, even. That realization was enough to make me want to drown myself in the lake.” He sighed dejectedly, Harry thought.

“It gets worse, Albus. After I realized that I respected him, I found myself staring at him. Constantly. He’s grown up to be quite the attractive young man. I want to brush his hair back from his face. I want to straighten his glasses for him. I want to kiss him, Albus. Kiss him until neither of us can breathe properly and all he can think of is me.” 

The dark silky voice turned self deprecating and bitter as week old tea. “Lusting after the Boy Who Lived was quite horrifying enough, but then it got worse. As if my life weren’t already complicated enough, I found that I had romantic feelings for him. I love that boy. Merlin help me; with everything I am, I love him. He is a child. He is the poster boy for the light. He is my student. He is, very likely, straight as an arrow.” A deep sigh. Was it of regret?

Albus’ response was wry and held a barely concealed hint of laughter. “I didn’t realize you’d worked out that much of it for yourself, Severus. I must admit I am impressed. You love him. How long did it take you to reach that conclusion?” Harry knew Severus was glaring again. Harry caught his breath in wonder; Severus was probably quivering with rage by now. 

Albus continued, more seriously. “He is not a child. Harry has never really been a child, Severus. He will be eighteen years old in a few weeks; a legal adult and a fully trained Wizard. You are every bit as valuable to the light as he is; you always have been. He is no longer formally your student. There is nothing stopping either of you from pursuing a more intimate relationship than you have had in the past. Harry cares about you, Severus; that much is obvious, even to me.”

Harry gulped. Unless he was more asleep than he thought, his former Headmaster had just given the Potions Master his seal of approval if he wanted to pursue a relationship with Harry. 

A deep sigh; the purring voice was rather rougher than Harry remembered it ever being. “We are…friends, I suppose. What makes you think that Harry would ever fall in love with me? Isn’t it punishment enough that I’ve discovered, after treating him like dirt for six years that I somehow managed to put myself in the unenviable position of worshipping the ground he walks on? Surely you can see that I am not suited to be his instructor any longer.”

Harry’s heart beat fast in his throat as his still sleepy mind attempted to process the conversation he was unashamedly eavesdropping on. Well. He supposed that was clear enough. Snape’s words certainly explained a few things about his odd behavior at the end of term. Harry knew that he wanted Snape. He knew that he liked him, admired him, desperately wanted to kiss him. But love? Harry was going to have to think about that. His mind reeled with new vistas of possibility.

A sharp bark of bitter laughter. “Why would you think Harry would be at all inclined in my direction, Albus? He is, as you say, nearly of age. He is the most famous wizard in our world. He could have literally anyone he wanted. Why would he choose me? I don’t even know if he’s homosexual or not.”

Harry looked up and met Albus’ twinkling eyes in the mirror above the fireplace. He grinned his cheekiest grin at the old man and made a motion that said ‘I heard everything’. He nodded and flicked his wrist rather comically, to indicate that yes, he was gay. He leered playfully at Severus to indicate that yes, he was interested in the older man. Albus nodded very slightly and suppressed a chuckle as he turned to look Severus in the eye.

“Why would he not be, Severus? You have much to offer a potential partner, after all. I happen to know that Harry shares your inclinations. As to the rest, I suspect he feels more for you than you think he does. You should talk to him, Severus. He might surprise you.” Albus smiled gently at the younger man, enjoying his discomfiture.

“Harry must be trained in defensive and offensive spells. You are the best man for the job.” Albus looked over his spectacles sternly. “Therefore, you will begin Harry’s training today, as soon as he rises.”

A strangled moan. “Yes, Albus. He’s still asleep? In his bed?” Another frustrated moan. “I swear, Albus….sometimes I’d like to strangle you with my bare hands.”

Albus laughed outright. “Yes of course, dear boy. I’m sure you are not alone in that earnest desire.” He turned towards the door and called out, “Harry, are you awake? Please come downstairs as soon as you are dressed.” 

Harry smirked, flush with newfound power, and ran up the stairs to get dressed. Then he had a thought. As far as he knew before today, Snape hated him with a passion. Perhaps he was just telling Albus the most awful thing he could think of, simply to get out of working with Harry. He needed to be sure Severus was telling the truth before he decided what to do about it.

Harry turned and flicked open the buttons of his pyjama top, then stopped at the top of the landing. He leaned over the railing a bit, as though he’d just stumbled out of his bedroom, facing the two men who were now in the hallway staring up at him. One was twinkling, as usual. The other was blushing and swallowing hard. He considered Severus carefully. Right. It seemed as though Snape was attracted to him, at least. Harry grinned and tried to appear sleepier than he was.

His voice rasped a bit when he greeted the two men. “Good morning, Headmaster.” He tried to inject a measure of seduction into his tone a moment later. “Good morning to you, too, Professor.” He blinked. Were Severus’ hands trembling? Harry rather thought they were. “Headmaster, I beg you…coffee, please. Dobby will get it. I’ll be right down. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Albus nodded and Harry turned towards his bedroom. He raised his arms over his head, ostensibly indulging in a spot of stretching. He was pleased at the audible gasp his action elicited from Severus. He strolled into his bedroom to wash and dress, rolling his hips a bit more than necessary. A choked, barely heard groan was the only response he got. It was more than enough.

Harry smirked to himself as he showered, mind wandering across the new landscape that was his future. It was going to be a productive summer after all.

The End


End file.
